


I am not Avery

by Trash



Category: Zodiac (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul isn't as brave as he lets on</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am not Avery

Avery sits at his desk, chin resting on his hands as he stares at the card propped up in front of him. He’s been there all day. Just staring. The torn strip of the cab driver’s bloody shirt is beside him, and when anybody approaches him he says “Isn’t it funny? How blood is just below the surface of everything?”

Robert drew the arch of his back, inked the way he hunched over his desk. His hat was discarded beside him and his hair falling into his eyes to blind him. The smoke from a half-smoked cigarette curls up toward the ceiling from where it lies in the glass ash tray beside him. 

Around him, the entire news room waits. Breath held. Waiting for the storm after the calm.

A woman breezes past Robert’s desk leaving the smell of flowers behind her along with a mutter of “He called a serial killer a homosexual. What’d he expect?”

He puts his pen down and gets up, ambling over to where Paul still sits motionless. Perching his ass on the corner of his desk he stubs out the cigarette. “You have to get over it. We always knew he read the Chronicle.”

“He’s going to kill me in my sleep,” Paul murmurs gloomily, “That asshole.”

Robert laughs and runs a hand through the older man’s hair softly, “He’s not. He doesn’t know where you live, for a start.”

“He’s going to hunt me down,” he says, “And stab me to death. Until I’m dead.”

This is all too amusing. For a week Paul had been keen to boast about how brave he was to the other reporters, saying he wasn’t afraid of a guy with the name of a cluster of stars. “Why isn’t he just called Milky Way?” He asked, “Huh?”

But now this. He reaches below his desk and produces a hip flask as Robert looks on worried, “It’s not even noon, Paul. Maybe you should – ”

“Should what?” He snaps.

Nothing. Never mind. Robert drops his hand from Paul’s hair and picks up the card, “You’re his press agent,” he says, “Why would he kill you when you write all of his stories?”

Puts the card back down and pushes himself off of the desk, returning to the art department to sulk.

*

It’s raining. It’s always raining. But this evening Paul Avery is on his doorstep. And it’s raining.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, “We said…I mean… my kids…”

Paul pushes past Robert and steps indoors, pulling off his soaked hat and coat and shaking his head like a dog, “I know what we said. But just tonight, okay?”

He looks terrified, eyes framed with dark circles like bruises behind his glasses. He looks older, drawn. He smells like cold and the rain. He’s…“You’re sober?”

Paul nods, somewhat distracted as he locks the door behind him, sliding the chain along and turning the knob to check it all, “Mmhmm,” he says, “I need to be alert.”

“You’re being dramatic. Zodiac only kills couples.”

Paul simply glares at him, gestures between them silently and Robert’s jaw drops, “Oh,” he says, “Right. Yeah.”

Paul heads through to the living room and flops down on the couch, “I can’t sleep there,” he says, never looks at Robert once, “I close my eyes and see that girl’s body, hog tied and stabbed to death.”

“You’re safe. I’ll look after you.”

He snorts, “Oh yeah? What you gonna do? Club him over the head with a text book?” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table and slouches low on the couch.

Robert sighs and blushes, slaps his feet away, “I can always kick you out,” he says as he gets up, “I’m going to bed.”

He heads down the hallway to his bedroom and undresses in silence. 

He’s already half asleep when Paul follows him. And half of him wants to turn away. But he doesn’t, isn’t like that. Instead he wraps his arms around Paul loosely and sighs, lets the reporter snuggle closer, and doesn’t sleep at all.


End file.
